


when life is better than your dreams, you're in love

by onceagainoncemore



Series: daydreams become reality [2]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Established Relationship, F/F, Fix-It, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, POV Eddie Kaspbrak, Stanley Uris Lives, Weddings, a fix it in where i didnt watch the movie and just did what i wanted, some slurs are used!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:34:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22566373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onceagainoncemore/pseuds/onceagainoncemore
Summary: “This meeting of the Losers Club has officially begun!” Richie crows, and bangs the gong.They all sit down, taking the positions they always did as kids - Eddie next to Richie, Bill next to Mike, Stan next to Ben, Ben directly opposite Bev. It’s sickeningly familiar - Eddie can see their thirteen year old selves sitting in this exact circle, arguing over movies and trying not to laugh at one of Richie’s better jokes.OR: a fix it but with lesbians.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: daydreams become reality [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1623694
Comments: 14
Kudos: 160





	when life is better than your dreams, you're in love

“Are we going to tell them? About us?” Eddie asks. Richie’s still wiggling in her seat, as airlines could never build a seat big enough to hold Richie and all her limbs for longer than a few seconds. Richie looks at her, sighs, and shrugs. “Did they know before? They must’ve. I think I remember them knowing.”

“I don’t know,” Richie says, twisting her ring. “I just-”

“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” Eddie says. Richie smiles, small and weak, and grabs Eddie's hand. She presses a kiss to the back, and then intertwines their fingers. She settles, curled up in an oddly shaped ball, and doesn’t talk for the rest of the flight.

**  
  
  
**

“Do you think we’re going to go exploring? Reintroduce ourselves to the town?” Richie says, as they get out of the cab. Richie, as always, has packed a small bag, already hanging off her shoulder, so she brushes the driver off and helps Eddie drag out her suitcase. “I have no idea how long you think we’re going to be staying. Sorry babe, but the second we can, we’re getting the fuck out of dodge.”

“I’d rather fucking die than go on a Derry tour,” Eddie says, and she can see the moment Richie remembers the tourists they’d seen as kids. Always miserable, taking photos of rubbish bins and trees covered in middle school children’s carvings because there was nothing else to take photos of. Eddie starts to drag the case upstairs to their room, muttering under her breath about  _ fiances  _ and how easy it would be to hide a murder in Derry.

Richie laughs, and finally helps get the case up and into their room. Eddie doesn’t thank her, but kisses her cheek, and grabs her toiletry bag. Richie’s stuff was in there too - no point trusting Richie to remember anything. Eddie had taken it upon herself to pack for Richie if any tours came up, because otherwise, Richie would come home her mouth unbrushed and her hair doused in dollar-store dry shampoo. Perfectly fine for a comedy show, definitely not fine when Richie tries to kiss her.

Eddie digs through her bag for her nightly medication, wading past her spare scripts, and the lipstick she’d brought to wear to the Losers’ dinner. Richie was standing in the doorway, watching, and Eddie smiles, and then-

_ “What does placebo mean?” _

_ “Placebo means bullshit.” _

“My meds are fake,” Eddie says. “Oh shit, shit, shit, all of this is fake.”

“What?” Richie says, and takes a step forward. Eddie lets the sheet of pills drop from her hand into the sink, clattering and echoing in the small bathroom.

“I’ve been taking sugar pills for the last forty years,” Eddie says, and she laughs, but it’s not funny. “I guess- I guess my lactose intolerance wasn’t the only thing my mom lied about! Should’ve fucking known - Oh shit, Richie, I’ve been taking _placebos._ I eat through half your paycheck for _placebos!_ Fucking- fucking sugar pills! I don’t think I’ve ever been sick in my life, Rich, fuck! _”_

“Eddie,” Richie says, and she grabs Eddie’s shoulders. It’s too tight for a brief second, and Eddie pushes away, and then remembers who Richie is. She lets Richie take her hand, and press kisses up her arm. “Eddie, it’s okay.”

“Is it?” Eddie says, because it’s not. She can remember now - all her p.e. coaches,  _ She can run quite well, Mrs Kaspbrak, she’s never shown any signs of her illnesses,  _ swimming with the Losers,  _ I want Eddie on my team she swims so fast she’s the fastest swimmer ever isn’t she Bill?, _ climbing trees with Richie,  _ my darling little squirrel! _ . “Is it okay? My mother fucking lied to me, Rich, and so- and so did my husband! And I believed them! I believed every fucking word!”

“Eddie, it’s okay,” Richie says, and pulls her closer, wrapping her in a hug. “It’s okay. Babe, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay. Remember your quotes, dumbass. Things may not be okay today, or tomorrow, but eventually they’ll be okay.”

“Can’t believe you’ve memorised that,” Eddie says, her voice clogged from her tears. “Fuck, I love you.”

Richie squeezes her tighter, and Eddie takes a deep breath.

“You smell so gross,” Eddie says, but makes no motion to move away. Richie laughs. 

**  
  
  
**

“Are you ready to go down?” Eddie calls out, and knocks on the bathroom door. Richie had said she was just doing her hair, which normally lasted a maximum of thirty seconds. Richie had been in the bathroom for twenty minutes now, and Eddie could feel herself getting worked up. “Mike says our reservation is in an hour, and the walk is half an hour. I don’t trust Derry cabs, so we’re walking. Is that alright?”

“That’s fine,” Richie says, and her voice is croaky. Eddie frowns, and opens the door. Richie looks at her from her spot curled up against the toilet, and moans.

“Are you sick?” Eddie says, and her fingers twitch, needing to be holding something. 

“Nerves,” Richie says, and stands up. She sways, but waves Eddie off when she goes to catch her. “I’ll be fine. You go ahead- I gotta brush my teeth.”

“I can wait for you,” Eddie says. Richie smiles.

“Yeah, but you gotta tell them about your allergies-” Richie pauses. Eddie gulps. “Tell them all of them, Eddie. You’ll need a, uh,”

“An allergen test when we get the fuck out of here,” Eddie finishes. “I should. Tell them, I mean. Don’t- don’t run away.”

“I love you,” Richie says, and Eddie wants to kiss her, so she grabs Richie’s arm and pulls her down to kiss her forehead.

**  
  
  
**

Eddie only feels somewhat bad when she lists her (maybe) allergies off, but the lady is really very nice and Eddie can’t help herself but tell her all of them, including a couple she’s sure wouldn’t be in Chinese food - penicillin, bee venom. The lady nods and writes things down, and Eddie doesn’t realise she’s rambling until she looks up, and standing there, still alive, was Bill and Mike.

“Eddie!” Mike cheers, and claps her on the shoulder. Eddie grins, and pulls them both in for a hug. “Glad you could make it.”

“Booked flights before you hung up,” Eddie admits, and they all laugh.

Stan enters next, reading glasses tucked into his front pocket, his smile small, tight. Mike cheers, and crowds him in for a hug. When Eddie hugs him, the bracelets and bandages wrapped up his arms scratch against her.

“Eddie,” He says when he pulls back. His smile is better now, still twitchy but now in that way that he does when he’s about to cry, his eyes wet and his cheeks red. Eddie can feel herself begin to cry, and she tries to laugh instead, hugging Mike again so he’ll spin her around like he used to when they were kids. 

“This meeting of the Losers Club has officially begun!” Richie crows, and bangs the gong. Eddie rolls her eyes, but smiles at Bev and Ben. Ben’s even taller now then he was when Eddie last saw him - he’s a full inch taller than Richie, and almost a foot over Beverly. He’s almost unrecognizable - beard, professionally cut hair, clothes that fit. 

They all sit down, taking the positions they always did as kids - Eddie next to Richie, Bill next to Mike, Stan next to Ben, Ben directly opposite Bev. It’s sickeningly familiar - Eddie can see their thirteen year old selves sitting in this exact circle, arguing over movies and trying not to laugh at one of Richie’s better jokes.

They’re silent, for a little, unsure of how to start talking. Then a waitress brings alcohol in, pre ordered by Mike, and the conversation begins.

“You got married?” Richie says, to either Bill or Stan, but they both laugh, agreeing. “Holy shit! Stan finally fucking got some!”

“You told me you were married,” Mike reminds Richie, whose good spirit drops. Eddie reaches for Richie’s hand underneath the table, and Richie smiles, squeezing it.

“Not yet.” Richie says. “Engaged.”

“When’s the wedding!” Bev squeals, and Richie begins to discuss the very minimal plans Eddie had put in place. Log cabins, snow, Richie’s management team as witnesses. Eddie hadn’t purposely designed a wedding as different as it could be from her last wedding, but it had seemed to happen anyway. “Are we invited?”

“Yeah, of course,” Richie breathes. Neither her or Mike have mentioned the  _ wife  _ comment Richie had made, and Eddie can feel the hesitation coming off in waves from Richie. Eddie thinks  _ we have to tell them before we invite them,  _ but doesn’t say it out loud.

“Eddie?” Bill says. “Did you get married?”

“Uh, engaged,” Eddie says, and she’s a little glad they didn’t get matching rings. Richie’s is more extravagant, shiny and gold and expensive looking, and Eddie’s was more understated, still gold but with a smaller jewel, but only because it was easier to clean. She holds her hand up, and Bev coos. 

“Wedding plans?” Beverly asks, and Richie’s grip on her hand loosens, and then tightens again. 

“You’ve already heard them,” Eddie says, and the table goes silent. Very slowly, as if she’s afraid someone is going to stab her with a pair of chopsticks, Richie brings Eddie’s hand to her mouth, and kisses it. 

“I always knew there was only one person who could handle Richie,” Stan says, and Eddie huffs out a relieved laugh, and the rest of the table cheers.

Beverly doesn’t talk about her relationships, and halfway through one of her cocktails, she takes her ring off and slips it into her pocket. She catches Eddie’s eyes, guilty, but Eddie just grins, and proposes another toast.

They eat, and laugh, and Eddie feels warm, happy.

The waitress comes back in with a plate of fortune cookies, and she stops to tell Eddie that there may be egg in them, so Eddie doesn’t touch them as the rest crack them open. Eddie thinks of her placebos back at the townhouse, of Greta’s voice saying  _ Placebo means bullshit! _ and she reaches for one.

It rattles.

“What the fuck,” Eddie says. 

She drops it onto her plate, and it rattles again. Richie looks up from her own fortune cookie, struggling to dig out the fortune, and frowns.

“I swear I didn’t cook another ring,” Richie says.

The fortune cookie explodes. 

She flinches, and ducks under the table. When there’s no more noise of cookie hitting the walls behind her, she sits back up. It’s another ring, but it isn’t anything like the ring she was wearing now. It’s silver, the diamond princess cut-

Her ring from Malcolm. 

“Eddie,” Richie says.

Eddie looks up from the ring to everyone else shuffling their fortunes around, mouthing words and arguing over grammer. Richie is the only one not helping. She’s looking at Eddie, eyebrows furrowed, and she reaches a hand out to hold Eddie’s cheek.

“ _ Stanley almost couldn’t cut it,”  _ Bill reads out, still holding onto his piece of paper. And then, swallowing heavily, he reads his out- “ _ I’ll have him first.” _

The ring in front of Eddie begins to shake, rattling against the ceramic plate. Everyone’s eyes snap to it, and Eddie pushes it away with her finger.

It bites her.

She screams, and the rest of the fortune cookies begin to shake and crack open. Eddie shakes the ring off her finger, and steps back, knocking her chair over. Ben stands up as well, holding an arm out in front of her, and then something from the cookies starts  _ flying. _

“Eddie!” Richie yells.

“It’s not real!” Mike says, but he screams as well when one of the cookies hatches into a slimy eyeball, spinning to look at him. “Not real!”

Mike raises a chair, and slams it into the nest of cookies. More of the flying things erupt, and the ring begins to somehow crawl towards her, and latches into the bare skin of her ankle. Eddie yelps, and Richie calls her name again.

Mike hits the cookies with his chair one more time, and then-

“Is everything alright?” The nice waitress from earlier asks. Eddie takes a deep breath, one she didn’t know she needed, and slumps against Ben.

“Yes,” Richie says. “Uh, could we have the check please?”

The waitress smiles thinly, looking very concerned for the restaurant's fancy plates, and walks away as fast as she can in her heels.

“I’ll pay.” Mike says, after a brief moment of everyone staring at the pile of broken fortune cookies. “You guys go outside.”

**  
  
**

Stan is the only one to not put a jacket on when they go outside. Eddie reaches for his hand, and holds it, and brushes the thumb of her other hand over one of his bandages.  _ Stanley almost couldn’t cut it,  _ she thinks, and shoves her face into Stan’s shoulder. 

They’re all standing around, waiting for Mike. Richie’s walking back and forth, obviously ready to say something.

“We’re going to die,” Richie says, when Mike walks out. They all look to Mike, waiting for his denial, but it doesn’t come. “Holy shit, Mike!”

“It’s back,” Beverly murmurs. “It really is back.”

“Let’s discuss it at the townhouse,” Mike says, and starts to walk, and still, the denial Eddie wants to hear doesn’t come.  _ We’re going to die,  _ the little Richie in Eddie’s head repeats, and she squeezes Stan’s hand harder. He squeezes back, and Richie grabs onto her other hand, pumping a rhythm -  _ one, two, three.  _ The  _ I love you  _ Richie had learnt off the internet. 

There are no cars on the roads as they walk, so Eddie doesn’t feel bad about Richie walking off the sidewalk. Neither Stan or Richie lets go of her hand until they need to walk inside, and then when they sit, Richie immediately cuddles up to Eddie, and Stan allows Bev to rub warmth into his arms.

“I know how to stop It,” Mike says, and Richie puts her hand out. Bill places two shots into Richie’s hand, and she passes one of them to Eddie. They both down it, and it almost calms the nausea Eddie can feel. “I know how to destroy It.”

A ritual. Brilliant.

**  
  
  
**

“Babe,” Richie whispers.

“Yeah?” Eddie says, and slips under the covers. They’re scratchy, and probably as old, if not older, than Richie and Eddie but Eddie can’t find it in herself to care at the moment. She was exhausted, and wanted at least a night’s sleep before the nightmares would come.

“I don’t think I can sleep,” Richie says.

“Oh, dinner?” Eddie asks, and brushes a hand over Richie’s cheek. Richie leans into it, and Eddie can feel tears. She shuffles closer, and kisses Richie, who smiles. “I- I just assumed. Should I have not said that?”

“That was fine, you’re perfect, it never would have happened if you didn’t say something,” Richie says, and ducks her head down so she’s kissing Eddie’s collarbone. “It’s just- memories?”

“I’ll protect you,” Eddie says, even though she’s not sure she can do anything to protect them against It. But she can feel Richie grin, and it makes her smile as well.

**  
  
  
**

_ “You cannot be around those nasty children anymore, Edith!” Her mom says, and Eddie sinks into the car seat. Her arm aches, every movement too big sending jolts of pain up through her, and the cast was already rubbing blisters into her skin. “I can’t believe their parents just let them… just let them play in abandoned houses and sewers like that! And with someone as delicate as you - no wonder they’re all…  _ **_like that._ ** _ Marsh and Tozier and whatever that black boy’s name is… Edith, I forbid you from being around them! You cannot risk your safety like this!” _

_ “Mike,” She says. _

_ “What?” Her mom spits out. _

_ “The- His name is Mike,” She says, and regrets it, when her mother presses far too hard on the brake and jolts Eddie forward, the cast catching on her bare thighs, her arm flaring up. Her mom doesn’t say anything for a scary amount of time, and it’s only just when they’re pulling up at home when she talks. _

_ “Go to your room, Edith.” She says. “You need to sleep. Those… those horrid girls must have infected you with their disrespect and drug talk, and, and, and who knows what else!” _

_ Eddie doesn’t argue. _

**  
  
  
**

“Have you ever seen a horror movie?” Richie says. “Splitting up is the worst idea. He’ll get us one by one!”

“It’s a  _ personal  _ token,” Mike says, for what must be the fourteenth time in as many minutes. He’s explained it three times over on the way to the clubhouse, but no one seems to be convinced of the plan as of yet. “It has to be an object that meant something to you that year we first defeated Pennywise. If someone else comes with you, then, then maybe you might choose something less embarrassing, or something to try to impress them.”

The glare Mike has isn’t targeted to Richie, but Richie shrugs anyway.

“It’s not-” Mike starts, and he sighs. “It’s not the safest option. But in the long run-”

“It will be,” Stan finishes, his voice softer than Eddie’s ever heard it. He’s taken off his bandages over night, and now he’s rubbing the scars littered up his arms. It’s not cold, but Eddie feels that same urge to make sure she was still whole. Something about Derry made you feel empty, like you were missing something important, some phantom limb syndrome for grief.

“Let’s find this stupid clubhouse then,” Richie sighs. “If nothing else, I think me and Bev still have a stash down there.”

“Do not smoke your thirty year old cigarettes,” Eddie starts, and then Ben falls through the door.

**  
  
  
**

The pharmacy is exactly how Eddie remembers. The unnatural bluish glow of the fluorescent lights bleaches any colour from Eddie’s skin, the rows upon rows of generic brand bandaids and tampons and toothpaste look like the products Eddie browsed over when Ben was hurt, the patrons waiting for their script refills the same age they had been last time Eddie had been here. It was as if Eddie had stepped directly back to 1989.

“Excuse me?” She calls, and an old man turns around, and stares. He’s devastatingly old, and as he walks over, all she can think about is how Mr Keene had flirted with a thirteen year old Beverly twenty-seven years ago, right where Eddie is standing, and when she realizes it is Mr Keene, she raises a hand to her mouth to hide her gag. “I called in a script? For Kaspbrak?”

The man simply stares, and then, slowly, he digs through the scripts for Eddie’s.

“I remember you,” He says, and holds the piece of paper up. “How’s your mom?”

“Oh, uh,” Eddie says. She hasn’t thought of her mom for months. “Dead, actually. Has been for a couple of years now. Very- very sad.”

Mr Keene nods, and then raises a hand to poke Eddie’s cheek.

“Cancer,” He says, and Eddie’s heart goes into overdrive. She can hear the pounding in her ears, and can feel it in her fingers, her legs, the cheek Mr Keene was touching. 

“What?” Eddie says, and her voice cracks. He squishes it, rolling one of her moles around in his fingertips, and doesn’t let go until Eddie bats him away. 

“I’ll go get you something for that,” He says, and shuffles away.

Eddie can almost hear her mother’s voice crawl up from the basement, the sickly sweet overtones, the terrified shouts, the  _ Edith… Edith-bear, help me! Edith!  _ Eddie shakes her head as she watches Mr Keene potter around, picking up jars and replacing them.

_ Edith…  _ the voice in her head echoes, and this time, it sounds like it really is coming from the open stairs to the lower level. Eddie can see her younger self, walking down the stairs with legs like a newborn horse’s, taking breaths from her inhaler every so often. She can see her mother strapped to that table, the leper, how she’d felt when she ran home and found her mother sitting in the living room, perfectly fine.

“Your inhaler,” Mr Keene says, and Eddie takes the bag, and when he turns around, she walks down the stairs.

_ Edith! _

The air down here is as stale and grimy as it was almost three decades ago. Eddie rustles with the bag, thinks  _ it’s fake it’s fake it’s fake,  _ and takes a breath with the aspirator anyway. Her movements kick up dust, and Eddie coughs. How long has it been since someone was down here? Had Eddie been the last one?

The curtain is closed, way at the end of the room, and Eddie can feel herself almost ache with the need to move it. Just to make sure.

She hasn’t seen her mom in years. Her mom was  _ dead. _

But what if?

Eddie flings the curtain open, the metal bar screeching in protest. There’s nothing. No chair, no leper, no chain. There’s nothing. Eddie feels like she can breathe again, and takes in a deep gulp of the musty air, the dust settling in her throat.

“It’s not real,” She mutters, and turns to leave.

“Eddie,” Comes the sticky croon. “You got a dime?”

Nothing ever goes right in Derry.

The leper vomits, right into Eddie’s face, and she cringes, trying to push it away. It’s too heavy, and she hits up smacking it in the throat. Then she thinks  _ why not?  _ and closes her hands around it, squeezing as hard as she could. It vomits, again, and Eddie screams, and squeezes harder.

It chokes, and Eddie can feel it getting smaller.

“I’ll even do it for free,” It wheezes out. “Let me eat you out, _ Spaghetti _ , I’ll do it for free.”

“You don’t scare me,” She spits, but when it opens its mouth again, she runs. Once she’s on the stairs she looks back, and there’s nothing left of it. But the sludge is all down her face and neck, in her clothes, and she gags.

**  
  
  
**

“Fucking-” She hisses, as she turns the tap on to wash her face. “Fucking- Oh, yeah, I saw my childhood nightmare, a fucking leper. I choked him, and then he  _ threw up on me! _ Went to go get my damn token for you, Mike, and what happens? A fucking walking infection vomits on me!”

She looks up to see her reflection. Someone else is in the room.

“It’s your time, Eddie,” The man hisses, and swings his arm. Eddie can’t move, she’s frozen, and waits for the impact of a fist. It doesn’t come. Instead, something goes right through the meat of her cheek, catching on her tongue and filling her mouth with blood. The man laughs, and Eddie spins around to face him, hands up near the handle of the knife, but not touching. 

Henry Bowers. Eddie would recognise that ugly haircut anywhere.

“What-” She manages to spit out, her voice twisted from having to be thrown past the knife. “Why?”

“Because it’s your time, Eddie!” Henry cackles. “He says it’s your time!”

“Who says-” Eddie gets out before there’s too much blood in her mouth. She takes a step back, and then another, sliding on her own blood. She gags, but that motion brings more blood through her mouth, and she holds her throat with her hands, trying to stop herself from vomiting.

She’s in the shower/bath, and Henry’s still laughing. The curtain closes, and she pulls the knife out, wincing as she gets it through more of her cheek than the original wound. She holds it out, waiting for Henry to walk forward.

“Give me back my knife!” He yells, and Eddie shoves the knife forward. It sinks into his flesh, and Eddie scrambles out of the bath, hand to her bleeding cheek, watching him stumble back.

“You need to cut your fucking hair, asshole,” Eddie mutters, and then- “Guys!”

Her legs were shakier than they’d ever been. Could Eddie be losing enough blood to suffer from major blood loss? It was all over the floor, her shirt, her face, her hands. Everything was dyed red. 

“Eddie!” She hears Bev yell. 

“Bowers is in my room,” She says, and holds her hand out when more blood than words comes out of her mouth. Bev shrieks, and brings a hand up to see the wound. It’s bad, judging by the look on Bev’s face. She laughs a little as Bev tries to close it. “Today has been the worst.”

**  
  
  
**

“Everyone got something?” Mike says, and they all nod. He holds out his token - a rock, of all things, and places it in the centre of their circle. Stan’s next, and he places one of his showercaps down, pinning it in place with Mike’s stone. Then Bill, with a little paper boat, and then Ben and Bev with their matching pieces of paper.

“Do we have to explain significance?” Richie asks, and throws hers to the middle. It’s a shiny arcade token.

“No,” Mike says. “Us just knowing that it’s important to you should be enough.”

Eddie places her inhaler down, and takes a deep breath, just to prove to herself that she can breath, even when she’s scared. 

Mike starts the ritual, and Eddie holds tight onto Richie’s hand, closing her eyes. She wasn’t sure if she was allowed to do so, but it was easier to pretend that they weren’t about to fight some demon clown when she had her eyes closed. 

“You thought that could stop me?” Pennywise cackles, and Mike lets go of Eddie’s hand. Richie doesn’t, and they both step away from the circle in sync. “Little Losers, thought that  _ believing  _ would kill the destroyer of civilizations! Of worlds!”

“Okay,” Richie says. “Maybe splitting up wouldn’t hurt right now!”

**  
  
  
**

“A closet.” Richie says when they open the  _ Not Scary  _ door. “Really fucking funny. Hilarious, you stupid fucking clown. A closet. Haha, the dyke isn’t out.  _ Hysterical _ , you- you bastard. I need to take notes for my shows. The pinnacle of comedy!”

“Stop-” Eddie hisses, and then there’s the sound of footsteps. “Oh shit.”

Richie slams the door closed before they have to see who the footsteps belong to. Eddie waits for the screams of one of their friends, but it doesn’t come. Just a high pitched giggle, something similar to a laugh Eddie heard when she was in middle school. She shudders, and drag Richie back away from the door.

“Alright.” Richie says. “Maybe he’s not fucking with us.”

They open the  _ Very Scary  _ door.

“A dog,” Richie says. 

“It’s cute,” Eddie says, and she leans over a little to see the little fluffy pomeranian better. It’s the sort of dog Eddie can see them owning. Something small, so Richie could tease her about it, and something cute, so they could take photos and start an Instagram and brag about it. It wags its tail, and Eddie can’t help the smile that comes out onto her face. 

“It’s a fucking monster,” Richie says, but she sounds like she’s three seconds away from cooing at it. “Sit.”

It sits.

“We need one,” Eddie whispers, and Richie nods. And then it growls, its bones snapping and growing almost to the height of Eddie, and she screams, and slams the door shut. 

“Maybe not that one.” Richie says.

“You think?” Eddie says, and starts to run back to where their friends were. Pennywise’s arm had gone, so they needed to go see if someone else needed saving. “Next time. Next time, we’re going regular scary!”

“Next time?” Richie yells, and follows after her.

**  
  
  
**

Eddie remembers the look on Ben’s face when they’d seen Bev caught in the deadlights. She remembered how they’d all looked. Scared. Horrified. Confused.  _ What the fuck happened to her!  _ Richie had screamed, arms flailing, trying to get answers out of nothing.  _ She’s floating! What the fuck!  _

“Rich,” She says, watching her fiance float ever higher, a trail of blood floating just above her. “Richie.”

She runs forward, and throws her fencepost, yelling something she couldn’t hear. She couldn’t hear  _ anything.  _ All of her senses seemed to be pinpointed onto Richie, watching every movement, trying to make out whether she was still breathing, still alive. Pennywise had dead kids in the dealights, Eddie remembers. Richie can’t be, she couldn’t be-

Richie falls as the fencepost lands in Its throat. Eddie runs forward, but doesn’t manage to catch her.

Her eyes are still blank, glossy white.

“Richie,” Eddie says. “Richie, please. Wake up.”

How did Ben do it?

Eddie kisses Richie. 

“I want my dream wedding,” Eddie says when Richie still doesn’t move. “And I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Please, Rich, wake up. Come back to me, Richie. Please,  _ please.” _

Richie finally moves, but it’s not to kiss Eddie back. She’s shoved away, and Richie dives from the spot they’re lying, and a second later, there’s the scrape of one of Pennywise’s claws against the rocks.

“Eddie,” Richie says. “Eddie. You’re alive.”

“You’re alive!” Eddie says, and kisses her again.

“Not that I’m complaining,” Richie says. “But doing it in front of a demonic clown isn’t on my kink list.”

**  
  
  
**

“I don’t want to do this,” Eddie says, and peers over the edge of the cliff. All their friends were already done there, splashing around as if they were thirteen again. “It was bad enough swimming there when we were kids. I have an open wound. Do they know how much bacteria could be in that water?”

“Babe,” Richie says, and Eddie turns around. Richie’s on her knee, and looking up to Eddie with her glasses off.

“You don’t need to propose again,” Eddie says. 

“Well, I’m gonna, and you can’t stop me,” Richie says. “I’ve loved you since we were kids, Eddie. I’m so- so fucking glad you craved apple juice that day we met. I can’t believe how lucky I was, catching the love of my life at a bar I’d never been to before. God, Eddie, will you marry me? All of me? Even the thirteen year old me who you always acted like you hated? Even my seventeen year old self who stole your first kiss? My forty year old self, who cries after sex and when she looks at cute photos of dogs?”   
  


“Yes, I’ll fucking marry you,” Eddie says. “I love you so fucking much.”

“Yeah,” Richie says, and stands up, and swings Eddie around until she’s being carried bridal style. “But I know you won’t kiss me until we’re clean.”

“Richie!” Eddie screams, but Richie’s already jumped off.

**  
  
  
**

“What kind of wedding gifts are you looking at?” Bev’s voice is tinny, far-away. She probably has the phone on speaker. Eddie shrugs, until she remembers that Bev can’t see her.

“Rich wants blankets,” Eddie says.

“What for?” Bev says. “You always seemed the type to hoard blankets. So does Richie, when I think about it.”

“We do,” Eddie says, and sighs. “But Rich is worried the cabin is going to be too cold for just-married sex.”

Bev cackles. 

**  
  
  
**

“I want a suit,” Eddie says, when Bev opens the door to her and Ben’s new house. Bev’s mouth drops, and then she grins, and beckons Eddie inside. Richie is here for a show, so Eddie didn’t have to travel too far just to annoy her best friend about making her a wedding outfit. “The wedding is in December, so I don’t expect one of your- your typical fancy suits. And you’ll be getting Richie something too, because I love her, but she has horrible taste in clothing.”

“White?” Bev says, and drags Eddie to the living room, where all her fashion sketch stuff is already set up. Ben’s own sketching kit was positioned out near the windows, but Bev liked walking all around her drawings, so hers ended up near the middle of the room. 

“Whatever you think is best,” Eddie says, and sits down. “White’s- white’s very traditional.”

“Black then,” Bev murmurs, and digs through a pile of fabric scraps. She throws three different shades of black to Eddie, and then one grey, and then a light pink. She hums over a scrap of navy blue, holds it up to Eddie, and shakes her head. “Which one do you like the look of better?”

“The pink is nice,” Eddie says. “But- No. No, the pink is nice.”

“Good,” Bev says, and sits in her chair, wielding a sharp pencil and an equally sharp grin. “Now. Tell me everything you want in this suit. Tell me everything you hated about your last wedding outfit.”

“I want to be able to move,” Eddie says, and she’s grinning too. “I wanna dance, Bev. I want to move. I want to  _ run.” _

“I can do that.” Bev says. “Yeah, I can do that.”

**  
  
  
**

“Babe,” Richie says. “Sweetheart. My little cotton candy girl. Sugar. Sugar-tits? No. Baby. Eddie, my love. Honey. Kitten. My gorgeous girl. Darling. My lactose free almond milk two sugars double strength caramel latte. Eds!”

“What,” Eddie says, and spins in her chair to face Richie. Eddie has been pretending to be working (truthfully she had been researching dog breeds and the best type for a small hyperactive family, but she wasn’t going to tell Richie that.), so she switches her laptop off before Richie sees anything.

“One week,” Richie says, and Eddie can’t help the smile. 

“If you’re going to interrupt me, you might as well kiss me too,” Eddie says, and tries to look annoyed, but it doesn’t fool Richie. Richie launches herself across the room, her bony body landing on Eddie’s thighs, grabs her faces, and kisses her. 

“One week til we’re forever, baby,” Richie murmurs.

“We’re already forever,” Eddie says, and presses a kiss to Richie’s neck.

“One week until we announce that in front of our friends and the media,” Richie amends, and lets out a little sigh when Eddie starts sucking a small hickey. “Seven days until I can show you off.”

“That’s all you’re looking forward to?” Eddie giggles, and Richie does as well.

“Seven days until I can talk about you in my sets,” Richie says. “Seven days til I can tell everyone about my adorable little wife. Seven days til you tell me you’re planning on adopting a dog as a wedding present after our honeymoon - yes, Eddie, I know, I still think we should get a pom. Exposure therapy, baby! Seven days until I get to see you in your suit. Seven days til the rest of our lives.”

“Fuck, you’re sappy,” Eddie says, and kisses Richie again. “I love you so much.”

“I know,” Richie says. “Yeah, I know.”

**  
  
  
**

“God, you’re pretty,” Richie murmurs into her ear as they take their positions for their first dance. Eddie laughs, and swats at Richie’s back. “How are you so pretty? It has to be illegal.”

“Better hope it’s not,” Eddie says as the music starts. “Otherwise you’ll be a prison wife.”

“The prettiest girl in the world married me,” Richie says, and swings Eddie out, spinning her. Eddie barks out a laugh, and does the same to Richie, standing on her tiptoes so Richie can fit under her arm to be spun. She can hear the Losers clapping and cheering. Richie almost trips, but grabs onto the back of Eddie’s neck, and can’t help herself - she kisses Eddie. 

“Ben will fight you if he hears that,” Eddie says, and raises her knee. Richie catches on, and grabs Eddie’s thigh, helping her up so she’s off the ground, legs wrapped around Richie’s waist. Richie spins, so Eddie grips onto Richie tighter, even though she knows Richie’s not going to drop her. 

“He probably has a good hook,” Richie agrees, and brings her hands from Eddie’s thighs to her ass. “So you should kiss your wife before she says the wrong thing in front of him and gets her beautiful face all messed up.”

Eddie’s slightly taller than Richie when she’s propped up on her waist, and she takes advantage of that, angling Richie’s head up like Richie’s done to her all through their relationship. She kisses Richie, tangling her fingers in Richie’s brushed-but-messy hair, and tries not to smile so the kiss isn’t ruined. Neither of them manage to contain their laughter and grins, so they’re simply smiling against each other when the song ends.

“Time for everyone else to dance!” Bev cheers, and when Eddie looks to her friends, they’ve already taken their shoes off, ready to party. Eddie gets down from Richie’s grasp, slips her own shoes off, throwing them to the corner where Richie’s manager stood, and lets herself be pulled away by Stan.

“Stop stealing my wife!” Richie calls, and follows soon after. “You have your own!”

Eddie’s happy. She doesn’t think she’s ever been this happy.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a tumblr. come be a lesbian and tell me ur reddie headcanons at onceagainthennevermore


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